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Rhys answers on the first ring. “What’s up?”
“I need a ride home. It’s Connor.”
“Meet me at my car.”
* * *
Rhys’s car screeches to a halt halfway up my driveway. I have one foot on the ground before he comes to a complete stop. “Oh, my God, Connor, stop!”
The two are wrestling on the grass, Peter on top of Connor, his fist raised. He gets a shot at Connor’s stomach, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. Connor rolls them both over until he’s on top, and his fist hitting Peter’s jaw sounds like lightning, feels like thunder. There’s blood pouring out of Connor’s nose and Peter’s mouth, splatters of crimson all over their shirts. “Stop!” I cry out, reaching for Connor’s arm. He doesn’t flinch. Another punch to Peter’s gut.
“Enough!” Peter yells, half defending himself while trying to buck Connor off him.
He has his hand on Connor’s throat now, while Connor screams, “Is that what Ava said, huh? Enough?”
“Connor stop it!” I squeal.
“I didn’t fucking touch her,” Peter yells, getting the strength to shove Connor away. Connor rolls to the side, but Peter won’t quit. “Who the fuck do you think you are!”
Connor kicks up his legs, gets Peter in his chest with a knee. “That’s enough!” Rhys shouts, trying to get between them.
“Ava!” Krystal calls out. “I’m calling the police.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t see through my tears.
Connor pushes Rhys away, and now he and Peter are on their feet, fists raised, both on the attack. “You ever touch her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Peter lunges for him, his shoulder going straight to Connor’s stomach. A guttural sound leaves Connor’s lips, and he’s on the ground, only for a second before he’s back up.
“A little help, Ava!” Rhys hollers, struggling. He’s holding Peter back, but he won’t last long, and fear and frenzy shake me from the inside.
I run as fast as I can from my house to Connor’s, my fists balled as I bang on the door. “Help!” I yell. I pound harder, faster, until the door finally opens. Connor’s dad looks at me wide-eyed and startled. “It’s Connor. You need—”
Corey’s racing down the steps and toward my house, and before I even make it back, he has his arms around Connor’s waist, trapping his hands to the side. “Knock it off!”
Now the two guys are restrained, and I stand between them, not knowing what to do or how to act. “I swear to God. I don’t give a fuck who you are or where you’re from, you so much as look at her again and I’ll end you,” Connor seethes, his face red. I stand in front of him, but he doesn’t see me through the rage flaming inside him. He spits blood from his mouth, his chest heaving beneath his shirt.
“Connor,” I cry, trying to calm him.
“Get out of my way, Ava.”
His dad tightens his hold. “Connor, that’s enough!”
Sirens approach, and when I look around, I see our neighbors outside their homes, all watching us, some with their phones out.
The Insane Asylum.
The Looney Bin.
Tears flow, cascade. I lower my gaze, cover my mouth to muffle my cries. “You need to leave, Connor,” I beg.
His heavy breath hits the top of my head, and I look up to see him watching me. Beaten and bruised, his eyes hold mine. “Ava,” he whispers, shaking his head.
“Please,” I urge. “Just go home.”
THIRTY-ONE
connor
